It's grown cold outside
My crops have all died
Smells like chamomile
Spaces yet to fill
It's all over bend my soul over
Lakeshore pecan floor
Soon I'll ask for more
And I'll get pissed for sure
Lay out on the floor
Don't know what I mean
Still some broke machine
Don't ask where I've been
Faces in the when
Hanging on a high
No more resting
No more resting
No more resting
No more resting